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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153361">Luren, of the Five</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofzeal/pseuds/sonofzeal'>sonofzeal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, The Five - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien POV, Humans are Metal, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other, The Five</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:46:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153361</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofzeal/pseuds/sonofzeal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Luren, of the Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiscarlet/gifts">nikkiscarlet</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flux engines cut in as the Terminal Pursuit, pride of the Luren fleet, left the hyperspace junction point and began to maneuver towards the Leba Conference Station. It was the first time in galactic history that the Five, the major spacefaring races in the known galaxy, would come to live on the same installation. It was an experiment that would have been inconceivable a decade ago, when the scars of the Third Great War were still fresh. Now it almost seemed inevitable.</p><p>Deep in the crew quarters, a mother held her child, gently stroking its fur with her talons safely sheathed. The child whimpered softly. This would be its first time meeting the other races of the Five, and it was scared, a fear response it would soon grow out of. Adult Lurens were natural warriors, strong of tooth and claw, calculating and fearless in battle. They prided themselves on it. All intelligent species in the galaxy had evolved from simple beasts ruled by the whims of their biochemistry, and all had overcome their baser instincts to one degree or another, but none so completely as the Luren. As descendants of mighty ambush predators, it was their way to carefully gather information, formulate plans and contingencies, and then act, as they had done generations ago when shifting climate patterns on their homeworld turned their analytical eyes from hunting prey to mastering fire and construction of shelter. From there, it had not taken them long to conquer the stars.</p><p>But the young one was still a child, and had not yet put its childish ways behind it, so the mother reassured it the best way she knew how - by sharing analysis and plans of action.</p><p>"You are scared, my precious child, because you will soon meet the others of the Five. They are unknown to you, and will hold surprises, and you think these surprises may threaten your safety. But this fear consumes your energy, and keeps you from getting healthy rest. Thus, I will tell you of them, and you will know how best to protect yourself, and be strong and smart and safe."</p><p>The child nestled against its mother's chest, its eyes closed but ears alert. Good. It was calming down already. The mother continued.</p><p>"The Cefara are water-dwellers. Their home is nearest ours, but we did not fight them in any of the Great Wars because the places we favor are different. They leave no scent because they will be trapped within suits when you meet them. Their thinking is unknown to us, and we can only communicate simple ideas. They are rubbery and their taste is mild. They are also loyal and stupid, but do not forget they have ships as mighty as the Terminal Pursuit. Treat them as a fresh-born litter whose mother is watching, but know with confidence that even a child like you could slay any one Cefara if needed."</p><p>She studiously avoided the current supposition among her fellow xenopsychologists, that the Cefara were an aggregate, that they could link their consciousnesses through nerve clusters at the base of their rubbery arms.  It would certainly explain why other Cefara appeared unconcerned over the death of one of their own, but mobilized in great numbers against even the smallest risk to one of their ecospheres.  Thus far, the most complicated idea exchanged between the two species had been some variation on "we come in peace", but it was enough.  The Cefara were no danger to them.</p><p>Against her chest, the mother felt her child squirm with impatience.  She moved on.</p><p>"You have seen Golen, and know their scent and shape. We fought them in all three Great Wars. They are larger than us, and stronger, but slow in thinking and in movement, and quick to anger. Precious child, do you remember your uncle Carnot?"  The mother controlled the impulse to wince. It was a shameful memory, but she was a mature Luren and would not let shame control her. As Luren begin adolescence, they are expected to gain full control of their emotions, and choose their sex. Some Luren partially developed as both sexes, and these have a special place in Luren society as Far Seers, critically examining Luren life, society, and place in the galaxy. Some few remained as sexless, emotional children indefinitely, and produced art and music prized by other children and often even by the other races. But, rarely, a Luren matured physically but was unable or unwilling to put their juvenile emotions behind them. Such beasts were a terrible and constant danger to those around them, and fit only for work too hazardous to risk any other Luren's life. These days they were often euthanized. It was better for everyone that way.</p><p>The child nodded its head. "Golens are all like Carnot?"</p><p>"Yes. But slow. If one becomes angry, you can spin around it, or pounce on its back. Never stay in one place. If you do not hurt it, it will calm down after some minutes - and if one must be hurt, let an adult do it if possible. When you speak to one, speak slowly and use several examples. They learn best through stories. They will seem very stupid at first, but once they learn something they never forget it. Remember, any race of the Five has intelligence, however different it is."</p><p>Her child did not need to know it yet, but the same patterns held true in space during the Great Wars, where Golen fleets would assemble devastating walls of battle but proved vulnerable to a more mobile force that could outmaneuver them.  This was the cause of much of the chaos of the First Great War, where neither fleet had been able to stop the other from striking key targets well behind the official front lines, either by brute force from the Golens, or by rapid hit-and-run from the Luren.  The war ended with the economy of both powers in shambles, but relatively little loss of life among their respective militaries.  </p><p>"Yes mother, I understand.  What are the other two?"</p><p>"The Morek, and the Terrans.  Morek walk on four legs like us, but hairless, and with teeth for gnawing instead of biting.  Their smell is earthly and slightly foul.  They speak well, and can play all your favorite games with you, but will steal from you too.  If you have a tool or toy you like, keep it with you.  They do not believe stealing is wrong." </p><p>This was an oversimplification, the mother knew.  Luren society was highly meritocratic, accumulating private property throughout their life based on their accomplishments, and with each citizen's assets lapsing to the government only at their death and used to provide for the basic needs of all citizens.  The Morek, by contrast, lived in great hives and freely shared any asset except food, returning tools and books and other devices to their designated storehouse afterwards.  If a Morek found an item lying unguarded, even at another's dwelling, their natural impulse would be to take it for themselves or return it to the "correct" storehouse if they had time.  Only things specially designated as hive-essential, like fire-safety equipment, were immune.  It was a survival strategy left over from millennia on a resource-starved homeworld, and had pervaded all aspects of Morek life and philosophy.</p><p>"If you get into a fight with a Morek, know that you are a little stronger and faster than a Morek your size, but do not let one bite you.  If you get bitten even a little, you will need medicine within the next day, or you will catch a bad fever.  Our medicine for this is good, and will stop any danger, but this is a survival-level order.  No other shame or worry less than survival-level should stop you seeking medicine within the next day."</p><p>"I understand, mother.  I can wait a few hours if I need to, but I must get medicine that same day. But what about the Terrans?"  The child's eyes gleamed.  They'd heard whispers of Terrans, and longed for more.</p><p>The mother paused there.  No fear or shame should be able to control her, but her mind still churned on the question.  How best to prepare her child for facing a real live Terran?</p><p>"They... walk upright, on their hind legs," she said, hearing the hesitation in her own voice and making a note to check herself into medical later.  Perhaps she had not fully recovered from her time in the Third Great War.  One of their cruisers had disabled a smaller human craft and towed it to Station Oph-17, to allow her and her team to study them.  It was the chance of a lifetime, the first time any Luren scientist would have healthy humans in a controlled environment.  Three weeks later Oph-17 was in ruins, half her team was dead, and the humans had somehow rebuilt their Flux engine from scrap metal and were well on their way back home.</p><p>Forward now, fear and shame do not control you.  Simple facts first.  "Their smell is earthy like the Morek, though less foul, but many choose to disguise or remove that scent.  The Terrans you meet may smell like flowers, industrial cleansers, or a Golen in heat, but mention it only if it is pleasant to you. Their bodies are uniquely adapted for throwing, using their upper limbs akin to a trebuchet, guided by a mind that can hit a Luren at twenty paces on the first try."</p><p>Her child's eyes widened.  "Are they computers?"  Every race except the Cefara  had gone through a warring period where siege weapons were used against fortifications of stone and wood, but for the Luren these were seen as approximate weapons whose aim could only be refined through trial and error or extensive calculation.</p><p>"No, my precious.  It is a skill that they train in, just as I train you how to walk silently.  It is just a skill no other race of the Five can ever hope to master.  And Terrans have...", there was that uncontrolled hesitation again, "...many such skills."</p><p>"How though, mother?  How they so much smarter than us?"</p><p>She rallied.  Her child needed to see her having control, and knowing that the universe could be controlled.  "It is not that they are smarter.  You are already better at arithmetic and logic than most Terrans.  We think... we think it is because they mature far slower than the other races.  You know that infants learn to quickly master skills like speech and physical coordination, and that it takes far longer for an adult to learn those same skills.  Terrans are born with few instincts and are utterly helpless for several years, but can train skills as instincts.  They call this 'intuition'.  A Terran maintains this state for many years, growing only slowly, and to a lesser degree retains the ability throughout their life.  A Terran with the right training can learn almost any skill by instinct."</p><p>The child furrowed its brow.  "I don't understand, mother."</p><p>"Hush, child.  It is a difficult thought, and one with many implications.  Know that each Terran is different.  Not all specialize, but those that do no longer need to calculate and can solve problems just by scent, within their specialties. They may seem impossibly smart at those skills, but slow-witted at others." </p><p>She remembered the terror in eyes of Oph-17's chief engineer when the Terran's Flux engine had spun to life, realizing critical sections of the containment had been calibrated, not by precision machining, but by hand and with no failsafe testing whatsoever... and that these seemingly-sane aliens trusted that abomination of a hack job enough to turn it on anyway. </p><p>He'd been euthanized a year later, at his own request.  She was a xenopsychologist, not an engineer, and she didn't claim to understand Flux engines well enough to truly appreciate how impressive the Terran's accomplishment was.  Her theory was that one or more of the Terrans had specialized in flux engineering enough to visually interpret the five-dimensional aurora that forms around a Flux core and anticipate by this "intuition" sense of theirs how the corresponding containment grid would have to align.   She compared it once, with a colleague, to a high-flying hunter known exactly when to dive,through turbulent crosswinds to strike prey moving beneath the refractive surface of the water - a feat requiring absurd precision, but possible with ten thousand years of evolution diving it. Or, apparently, a mere decade of study and experience from a Terran.</p><p>"Mother?"</p><p>"Yes precious?"</p><p>"What should I do if a Terran attacks?"</p><p>There was a long silence in the cabin, finally broken by the docking clamps engaging for final maneuvers into the Leba Conference Station.</p><p>A dozen answers raced through the mother's mind.  Terrans were such weak, defenseless creatures.  They had no armor, and no claws or fangs worth mentioning.  They were not strong, could not run quickly.  This had translated to the Third War too, where Luren ships had better shields, better engines, and better weaponry than their Terran counterparts.  But Terrans were durable in a way Lurens had no word for.  They could fight back after injuries that would kill a Luren outright, and recover after to fight again the next day.  A crippled ship might turn and ram its attacker, or self-destruct as one last spiteful gesture of defiance.  They were utterly unpredictable in tactics and even basic competency - sometimes rushing in headlong, sometimes fighting elusively, sometimes bluffing, sometimes luring into traps.</p><p>In the end, she could give the only advice she knew had worked in the war.</p><p>"If a Terran attacks", she said softly, already reworking her schedule to allow some extended therapy sessions, "if a Terran attacks you must never run, or threaten it, or injure it.  This is a survival-level order.  You must either tear it into pieces as quickly as you possibly can... or you must surrender."</p>
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